


Life

by FalliciousPuns



Series: Fiedler's Llamas [9]
Category: Nochnoy Dozor | Night Watch - Sergei Lukyanenko, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold - John Le Carré
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, M/M, like it's a take on lukyanenko's vampires that's all im sorry, night watch inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalliciousPuns/pseuds/FalliciousPuns
Summary: It satisfied him to feel the pulse of life beneath his teeth, to know that he held the other man’s life between his lips.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "line me"  
> "lol lemme make this one up on the spot"  
> "vampirism nice"  
> *STAYS UP UNTIL 1:30 WRITING*
> 
> SOMEONE got this idea stuck in my head

Fiedler loved to rest his lips in the crook of Leamas’ neck. It satisfied him to feel the pulse of life beneath his teeth, to know that he held Leamas’ life between his lips.

It pleased him to no end to feel how Alec’s pulse sped up in fear, in love.

He would run the fine points of his teeth along each weak point, the neck, high up where the ribs met the shoulder, inside the hip bone, the Achilles heel, the back of the knee, reminding Leamas constantly of his precarious position among the living. For every one of the human’s shudders of fear, Jens Fiedler repressed one of pleasure.

Sometimes he would lull Leamas into a false sense of security, pushing him into the bed with gentle love bites. He adored the smile Leamas would give him, as if he trusted him with the world. He would marvel at the beauty of the change, summer to dying autumn, as he let his fangs slide out, and Alec felt the gentle prick and sedative reserved for animals raised for slaughter.

The weak whimper, the brief flail of fear before the sedative took effect fascinated Fiedler to no end. One moment love, one moment fear, and then the sedative, which calmed the senses and the mind until there was only a distant happy smile on the victim’s face. He loved to see Leamas smile.

One is not supposed to play with one’s food.

Sometimes Fiedler wouldn't use the sedative that his body produced.

He would insert the fangs more deep than necessary, then retract them, clamping down on Leamas’ collarbone with his human teeth, restraining the man’s shuddering arms with strong, delicate hands, his legs with his knees. His long jagged tongue would dart and clean the insides of the wounds, not waiting for the blood to flow and fill them.

Leamas would be in pain, and Fiedler’s mouth would be feeling out the source of it, making it worse. He could do anything to Leamas.

It was not that Leamas’ blood was anything out of the ordinary, it was nourishing, and that was it, but Fiedler had developed an odd attachment to the man whose blood he drank every week.

The way he reacted to being fed on was so beautiful. As if he had hope, week after week that Fiedler would not drink the life from him. And for some reason, Alec seemed to care for his parasitic friend, often questioning him about how vampirism affected Fiedler’s life, or about how Fiedler could inject either sedative or the venom that would turn one into a vampire. He was an enigma.

Fiedler often held himself back from drinking Leamas completely dry. He had the right, but he mustn't. Leamas’ brief words before and during his feeding were too intoxicating, like a puzzle whose shape changes whenever a piece is set down.

He suspected that Leamas was just as enthralled with him, despite resenting being bitten.

Sometimes, he would come to the hospital ward, and he wouldn't be hungry. He would lie in one of the beds as Leamas told him about his day job. A few times, he even let Leamas play vampire, letting his body loosen under inexperienced bites with dull teeth.

“Like this?” Alec would ask, lips pressed an inch above the cup in Fiedler’s collarbone, slightly below his Adam’s apple.

“Slightly to the right, actually,” Fiedler would say.

And Alec would laugh. “I can feel the hum of your voice on my tongue,” he would murmur into Fiedler’s neck. “Keep talking.”

And somehow Fiedler would end up talking about his day, about nothings, all for the smile on Leamas’ face.

Don't talk to your food.

But Fiedler did get hungry eventually, and during those times he would press Leamas down, blood on his lips as he moved from artery to artery. Those intelligent eyes, dulled with sedative looked so vulnerable. Fiedler wanted them. Wanted everything behind them.

“Are you going to turn me into a vampire?”

“Your blood doesn't replenish if you're a vampire. I'd have to drink from someone else.”

Leamas’ face fell. “So I'm just a drink to you?”

That stopped Fiedler dead- and he was already one of the undead.

“So if I'm say, beer to you, what kind of beer?” Leamas seemed not to notice Fiedler’s hesitation. “Czech beer or the cheap American piss they call beer?”

“You're average,” Fiedler muttered blankly, unbuttoning his shirt so as to avoid any stains. He was still fazed by the first question. _I'm just a drink to you?_

“Then why not drink something else? I would.”

“Lots of reasons. Maybe this beer has sentimental value. Maybe I would always drink this beer with a good friend. Maybe I've drunk this beer so many times that it has become my personal favourite. Maybe there's something about this beer that I can't shake. Maybe I'm addicted to this beer, who knows.” Fiedler shrugged as he watched Leamas cross his arms from where he lay in the hospital bed.

“Or you're poor and can't afford a decent beer,” Leamas said with a smile. He was trying to avoid thinking about Fiedler drinking his blood. Leamas could never bear to take his clothes off before Fiedler fed. It was like giving himself up like a lamb for slaughter, admitting that soon he would be wearing a delirious smile as Fiedler’s sharp tongue wormed its way into his neck.

“I-” Fiedler shook his head. “You aren't just a beer to me Alec. Also vampires are allergic to alcohol, that's why you're not allowed to have drinks twenty four hours before-”

“That’s got to be the fourth time today you've called me ‘Alec’, is there something wrong?” Leamas wore a half smile.

Fiedler slid his trousers down, folding them neatly and placing them on the bedside table. “You're more like the bartender who’s serving the beer, metaphorically speaking. You're where I get the beer, and you- mmm,” he hummed, as if he were going to regret what he was about to say, “and you have a personality and you're interesting.”

“You can say I'm a person, I won't be offended,” Alec said with a grin. Fiedler sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Well you're not only my source of nourishment, how about that.”

“What the hell is that supposed to-”

Suddenly Fiedler was on top of Leamas, pinning both his hands to his chest, his tongue already curling into new wounds in Alec’s neck.

Leamas gave a panicked, “AGH!” which then subsided into a gentle, “Ahh,” as the sedative pulsed through his veins. The fear and surprise dampened, to be replaced with mild content. Oh how lovely this was, Alec would be thinking, he would be happy to give up his blood if it felt so soothing.

Fiedler’s mouth left Leamas’ neck for an instant to take a breath. Blood, spittle and sedative dripped slowly onto the white hospital sheets. Fiedler lowered his head again, fingers moving to unbutton Leamas’ shirt, to better access the arteries by the armpits without ripping his clothes.

He drank and he drank.

\---

  
“I hate it when you do that.”

“When I do what?”

“Sedate me. Make me want to give you my blood. Drink my blood in general.”

“The sedative is supposed to stop you from running away so I can feed better, but it also makes the incisions hurt less. It's a natural painkiller. I think you humans use it in some of your medicines.”

“Well you don't use it all the time, so what’s that for?”

“I like seeing you smile like that.” Fiedler was undressing again.

Leamas had no words. He was standing up, looking at the tea a nurse had left them. “Wait what?”

“You get afraid, and then you become content. All because of me. I like making you change.

“You're a sick man, Jens.”

Fiedler laughed and settled down on the bed, head propped up on one arm. “Sit,” he commanded. Leamas lay down next to him, back towards the vampire, his head on the perfect white pillow.

Fiedler twirled Leamas’ greying hair around his fingers, playing with it, sometimes running a hand through it, tousling it up. He ran a finger behind Leamas’ ear.

“Humans are so odd,” he said, leaning over Leamas’ neck to give him a kiss. He felt the human tense, expecting a sharp bite.

“Watch it,” Leamas said sarcastically, “some of my best friends are human.”

“Is that so?” Fiedler replied, laying another kiss on the side of Alec’s neck.

“Well I would assume, since- agh!” Alec hissed as Fiedler’s teeth sank into him.

“It’s alright, it's all alright, there's no sedative, and the incisions aren't even that deep,” Fiedler reassured him, fangs sliding back into his gums. Blood welled on the two newly bleeding marks on Alec’s throat. He licked his bright red lips. “You were saying?”

Leamas’ voice was shaking with suppressed fear. “I- would assume that I have human friends, given the fact… the fact that I am human,” he said. Blood bubbled up and spilled off his neck, dripping thickly onto the pillow. The hot, sticky feeling trickled down the back of his neck. Alec paused. “Fiedler I-” he shuddered as he felt Fiedler’s tongue trace up his neck.

Fiedler laughed. “I'm just cleaning up,” he explained.

“Listen Fiedler, I know you said I wasn't just a drink, but-”

His breath caught as Fiedler leaned in over Alec’s shoulder and gave a small lick. The German’s hands continued tracing small patterns through Alec’s hair, his shoulders.

“Go on. It's just like kissing, go on.”

“But I think that, well-”

Leamas couldn't hold in another shiver as Fiedler’s tongue explored the gaping holes in Leamas’ neck, curling inside them and around them.

Leamas’ voice was hesitant. “Don’t you think we’re good enough… friends… do friends…”

Fiedler hummed as his lips brushed over Leamas’ neck in gentle kisses that picked up blood.

“I don't think- Friends… a friend wouldn't drink their partner’s blood, alright.”

A trickle of blood slid down Fiedler’s face as he looked up in surprise. “Who said we were friends?” he asked a bit too quickly.

“You did. When you said that I wasn't just for nourishment, you heavily implied, well, that and the way you look at me and-”

And suddenly, Fiedler had rolled over him, they were kissing, long fingers curling in Leamas’ hair.

They'd never kissed before. Fiedler might have lain kisses on Leamas like stars in the night sky, and Leamas might have, in a fit of passion, done the same, but never like this.

It lasted longer than either would have thought possible. Finally, Fiedler broke off, and said, “Alec Leamas, I think I am in love with you.”

Leamas blinked. And nodded. “I think I'm also in love with you,” he said simply, as if in a daze.

Fiedler looked ashamed, but he looked into Alec’s eyes. “Alec, may I ask you to do the honour of keeping me alive? May I drink your blood?”

Alec blushed. “Well, Jens,” he said, feeling the word in between his lips for the first time, “When you put it that way, then I suppose, this once, you may.”

This time Leamas pulled Fiedler into the kiss, smiling despite the pain as Jens’ fangs raked the inside of his mouth, feeling content as Fiedler’s tongue twisted to lap up all the blood, prising life and love from between his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Jens felt unclean. His fingertips felt oily despite the fact that he'd cleaned his hands only a short while ago. His skin felt disgusting. It crawled with imperfections. Absentmindedly he picked at some small bump on his neck. It hurt. He was dirty, he needed it off him. He hissed as he tore it with his nails. He felt the distant moistness of blood. Alright, so now his neck was clean of the mark, but there was a disgusting sensation under his fingernails now.

He ran a hand through his hair. _Idiot_ , he thought as he felt the dandruff gathering around his roots, trying to get it all out. _You're disgusting_. He removed his hand. It was oily as he rubbed his fingers together, and there was _more_ under his nails.

He went to wash his hands again, rubbing his hands furiously, sliding nail under nail. And yet he felt utterly repulsive. The side of his belt cut into his hips. Jens swore he could feel a little of his stomach overflowing. _Disgusting_.

He stretched, as if by moving, it would all just go away. He became aware that the back of his neck was not beautiful. He stretched that too, further, further, it felt like he would snap.

Nothing changed. He was disgusting, and growing increasingly frustrated.

If only there was a way to rub off all the ugly bits with one of those harsh, metal, pronging dish sponges.

He wanted to break something. He wanted to burn, melt his skin off like wax and start over.

It was a relief when Leamas opened the back door.

“Alec!” Fiedler called from the living room, “hurry Alec I need you!”

There was something in that tone of voice that called Leamas to him. A worrying urgency, like finding something dead in the toilet.

“Jens, I’m here, what’s wrong?” The door banged open.

Fiedler was naked, save for the too-big underwear that hung around his lower hips. He glanced at Alec, eyebrows knit together in frustration. “Please Alec, please tear me apart.”

“Why aren't you wearing anything?” Leamas was trying so hard not to stare at Fiedler's neck.

“Because my hips kept touching the sides of my shirt.” He could hear the knot in the back of Jens’ throat.

“You-”

“ _Feed on me_!” Jens yelled, stalking forward, so close to Leamas that he could feel the younger man’s body heat through the air.

Leamas shut his eyes. “I'm not hungry,” he lied. He hadn't eaten for weeks.

“Bullshit,” Fiedler spat, grabbing one of Alec’s hands. He forced it against his throat, making the other man feel the racing beat.

“Jens, don't- I can’t-” Leamas shuddered as he felt a thick pulse from Jens’ neck. His words stopped as Leamas focused on drowning out the-

 _Thud_.

Drowning out the-

 _Thud_.

Drowning-

 _Thud_.

He was drowning, drowning he couldn't hold on much longer, oh God Jens was so alive and-

Leamas managed to tear his hand from Jens’ neck, backing away. “Jens, you don’t understand- I haven’t eaten, I’ll lose control-” he was backing away, Jens drawing forward with that look of frustrated misery.

Leamas’ back thumped against the wall, next to the tall glass and old wood shelf where he kept all the dusty plates he never used. No. No. Fiedler stretched his neck so that Leamas could see how the pulse moved his neck.

He screwed his eyes shut. For a long, long instant, he thought everything might really have stopped.

Something pressed into his chest with a rhythmic _thump-ump_ \- the movement felt itself through Alec’s shirt- God it was so-

He gasped.

“Go on, _Alec_ ,” Fiedler said. “Tear me apart like you _so would love to_.”

It was overpowering, completely overwhelming, but then Fiedler’s hands were in his hair, pulling his head down until Leamas’ chin rested just behind Jens’ shoulder. Alec’s neck was pressed against Fiedler’s own, his thin fingers holding them tightly in place.

“Fiedler _please_ -”

And then Alec felt the pulse, through his neck, his chest, through his legs which Fiedler had tangled his own in.

There was something. His control slipped from his fingers. Pure intoxication. Hunger.

His head rolled in pure lust. He'd forgotten. There was something about Fiedler's pulse that denied description- any attempt to narrow it down to words. It existed, it just was. And Alec reveled in it. He needed to consume it utterly.

“ _There we are, Alec_ ,” Jens said in a voice filled with fascinated disgust. And then he began to scream and scream as Leamas’ fangs raked down his body, slitting him from shoulder to hip like a fish. The blood splattered across Alec’s shirt, making the noises he heard in dreams.

He bit, and Fiedler screamed even more, whimpering as he pried the wound open. He loved the way the human’s neck would move as air passed through it, how the blood welled in time with that enthralling, all devouring heartbeat.

His teeth sank time and time again into the slash, sucking up the thick liquid with hungry lips, sharp tongue stabbing into the flesh. He made noises like a drowning man, but the first problem with that comparison began with ‘man’, and ended with drowning. He would gladly drown in this, the hot, sticky life that flowed so _easily_ , the terrified melody against the ribs, so close to his mouth…

“It doesn’t hurt enough,” Fiedler managed to spit. “Damn you Leamas it doesn't hurt enough!”

Leamas bared his teeth. Oh how _lovely_ it would be to hear a gurgling scream as his food drowned in itself. He smiled at the thought. How pure could he make Jens sing, he wondered, digging the nails into the side of the wound. The gentle, musical whimpers became heavy twitching sobs. _More_. He needed to feel Jens squirm, make him spill the blood all over himself. The nails pressed, Jens flailed, blood oozing from between the slash, lathering itself over his chest. Leamas had played the right chord.

Like a delighted child, his hand plunged down again, pounding inexpertly on the keyboard of Jens’ ribs. He screamed. Leamas let out half a breath, delighted.

“ _Feed_ ,” Jens rasped eventually. “You're _still_ holding back, you-”

White hot fangs jammed into the base of Jens’s throat. He gave a dying, wincing laugh which cut out as he lost the ability to control his voice.

For a while there was only the soft squelch as Leamas’ slick hands slipped from their purchase in Jens’ gashes along with the constant yet erratic kicks of Jens’ legs on the carpet. He hadn’t noticed when he'd pinned Jens to the floor.

Leamas had drunk about a pint and two thirds before he regained any measure of control of himself. Jens’ legs had stopped convulsing half a pint ago. He stared in loving fascination at the utter mess of rips in Jens’ chest, the sheer, intoxicating amount of blood splattered across the boy… the boy… _what had he done_. Panic flashed through Leamas’ fingertips, making them shake where they were buried in he hole _oh it was so deep_ that burrowed down his collarbone. Fiedler gave a small twitch.

Leamas’ teeth sank into Fiedler’s neck- he needed restorative, and he needed it _now_ \- Jens could not stand to lose even another scruple of blood.

 _Jesus Christ_ , Leamas thought to himself. _Jesus fucking Christ_. He was burning. His throat, his eyes, his chest. How could this have happened.

He ran out of restorative. Terrified, Leamas pulled his fangs from Fiedler's neck with the sickly _slch_ he loved so much.

He noticed there was still blood oozing across Fiedler's chest. His pulse, fainter now, beat beautifully. Hating himself, Leamas bent to lap up the blood.

**Author's Note:**

> The vampires are partly inspired by Night Watch's ones (aka the sedative)


End file.
